Two

In the wake of the recent financial crisis, I've decided to invest all my money into the Finnish derivatives market for nonalcoholic beverages. What's the probability that two Scandinavian countries will go bankrupt? Almost none, I would have thought, so I reckon I'm onto a winner.

Unfortunately, my cafetiere stocks devalued rapidly today: the cheap glass beaker broke when I poured some hot water into it. Possibly due to overuse. Still, it paid for itself after just one packet of coffee, so it's not so bad. I will invest in a more expensive, and hopefully more durable, replacement. It's been so nice to drink good stuff for the last two weeks.

In matters more trivial, I've almost finished racing for the year. The last one will be the Bristol South hillclimb up Burrington Combe this Sunday. Last year I did 8'07, but I think with the wind blowing the right way I can go under eight minutes. I'm last off but on paper I'm not the quickest: my minute man, if he turns up, is better. We shall see.

Last weekend was the Chippenham double header and it went rather better than I expected (won both days).

In the hillclimb up Bowden Hill (2.1km @ 6.3%) on Saturday, I clocked 5'05 to beat Robert Adams (5'12) and Robin Coomber (5'13). Last year I managed 5'19 for fifth, so it was a decent improvement. Rob Gough and Danny Axford did 4'54 last year and that sort of time is out of reach for me unless I do some specific training for it.

Now, five minutes sounds like nothing when you're used to riding for up to nine hours at a time. But believe me, it's many times more painful. You have to dig very deep into your anaerobic bank of courage (currently guaranteed by the Norse government) and it hurts way more than using your aerobic tank.

The first couple of minutes, which also correspond to the flattest section of Bowden Hill, are fine. But then you hit a 500m section that averages 12%, and you have to punch it up there as hard as you can. At the top, you're almost dead. Problem is there's still 500m at 5% to go.

Obviously I managed it better than everyone else did, which was the main object of the exercise. Robin was my minute man, and when I got to the top of the steep bit I heard 'Robin's two seconds up on you' from Simon, who had done the smart thing and not raced. I thought 'ok, I'm not going to pull that back, I'll just get to the top as best I can'. So while I could think relatively clearly, I just couldn't go any faster. Turned out that Robin blew up at that point and lost 10 seconds.

Robin, still in the big ring, was 2 seconds up on me at this point.
© Neil Davies
Owwwwww....
© Neil Davies

When I got out of the saddle near the top, my legs wouldn't quite go around the full pedal stroke. This is known as pedalling in squares, and it means you're not going so well.

I got over the line and Andy Cook was there saying 'do you want me to catch you?' but I couldn't respond, I was so cooked. Eventually I shook my head, did a 30 second warm down and collapsed on the grass next to Robin. We were both coughing and trying to reclaim that lost oxygen. I tried to talk to another lass who had finished her ride who I'd been meaning to catch up with for a while, but all that came out was an incoherent stream of pain-filled garble.

I was still coughing several days later and it's reminded me that I should not do too many of these events. They can't be good for you. At least I've only signed up for two this year, rather than four last year.

Naturally I was surprised and very happy to find out that I'd done the best time. I even got a special jersey, courtesy of British ex-pro Harry Lodge. Was the pain worth it? Hmm, not sure about that one...

I'm presented with my winner's jersey from Harry Lodge
© Jeff Jones
Harry Lodge with women's winner Anna Fischer
© Jeff Jones
Junior winner Jamie Richardson-Page gets his prize
© Jeff Jones

Gorillas in the mist

I couldn't sleep that night. My back was killing me and it felt like I had a full-on cold. But I had to get up, because the next morn was the greatly anticipated three-up team time trial on a 39km circuit between Chippenham and Wootton Bassett. It had one longer climb in it, up Lyneham Banks, but that wasn't so steep. There were a few other short sharp ones and plenty of false flats. It was also very very misty, and we were never quite sure if we were going uphill or down.

23 teams entered and the Chippenham A team of Ben, Simon and myself were one of the favourites. Our competition was VC St Raphael, with Phill Sykes, Colin Parry and Rowan Horner. On paper, I would rate them as better individual riders than us, but as I've learned so many times in the past, the team time trial is just as much about how you ride together as who you've got.

The plan was to rest Simon a bit before each climb, so that we could go as hard as we liked without putting him too far into the red. On the flats, we'd vary the length of turns depending on how good we felt. It worked out well.

I was going fine but was relatively rubbish on the corners, which was good for Ben and Simon who got a bit of a rest while I caught up. I think the only other time a gap appeared was when I pushed it a bit too hard going up the hill into Malmesbury (then got dropped at the bottom on the roundabout).

We finished in 53'34, an average of just under 44km/h which wasn't bad at all for that course on a cold, misty morning. VC St Raphael didn't quite get it together, and ended in 54'12, so we won! That was a big result for us, because VC have won it for the last three years in a row and I don't know how long ago it was since a Chippenham team won.

Apparently, we were only five seconds up on VC at 2/3rds distance, but that's when we started stepping on the gas so I'm not surprised we increased the advantage. Plus, they must have gone a tad too hard up Lyneham Banks, because we heard at the top, Rowan Horner had to stop and throw up. That sort of thing tends to reduce cohesion and synergy.

There was one composite team that did 56'35, another that finished with two riders (doesn't count) in a similar time, then the Chippenham Vets team with Chris Tweedie, Mike Andrews and Gary Walker did 1:00:02. They actually won more money than us because they took the vets prize as well as third. Nice one lads!

I've spent the rest of the week trying to recover, aided(?) by multiple beer drinking sessions. Roll on the off-season.

Woo hoo! Chippenham 3-up winners: me, Simon Snowden, Ben Anstie.
© Jeff Jones

Postcrypt

While I'm at it, I may as well update the blog with the Bristol South hillclimb results. I don't actually need to do that because you can see them here. Suffice it to say and as I expected, I was well beaten by my minute man, Tejvan Pettinger, who clocked 7'21 compared to my 7'39.

On the plus side, I was nearly half a minute quicker than last year, but it still wasn't good enough. I estimated an average of 420W for the 3.2km @ 5.9% climb. To win, I'd have needed another 20W and 2kg off the bike + rider (thinks: must get lighter bike and stop drinking beer. Thought process = fail. Do you want to restart Now or Later?)

Time passes. Computers get rebooted.

So that's it for the racing. It's been a Pretty Good Year, as Tori Amos would sing. 15 wins (12 opens, 1 series, 2 journo worlds, club TT championship and a couple of club records). I can't complain about that. Fitness wise, I think I'm about the same as I was in the second half of 2006, when I was going reasonably well in Belgium. But I know I'm much more suited to time trials than kermises, because I can't sprint. A top 20 in a Belgian kermis is worth a win in a UK open TT.

Next year? We'll see. Some different goals, I think. I'd like to do a few more road races, plus some longer TTs, more national-level events, and break 20min for a 10, and possibly 50min for a 25. That's not easy though. I hope the weather is better.

This week: off to Hvar for a bit of riding and drinking with Primoz et al. I last went at the end of the 2006 season and it was fantastic. Although I suspect I'll have trouble keeping up on the drinking front...

Victory (again)

I did it. At the behest of my sister, I invested in a cheap cafetiere and some better-than-industrial-grade coffee. Thus, I could skip the canteen queue for a cup of Costa blandness this morning and try it out.

I may have slightly overestimated the amount of coffee required for the cafetiere's one litre capacity. Because despite then filling it up to the top with hot water, I ended up with just two cups of java. Each one a wee bit stronger than your average three-shot grande Americano, and a hell of a lot tastier.

Both MCole and I perked up after downing our cups (with the aid of spoons).

I will need to repeat this experiment. As a sort of non-blind control, I got a Costa Americano at lunchtime to compare, and it actually tasted blander than I remembered. Of course, my taste buds might have been completely obliterated by the morning brew.

Rain, would you believe it?

After a nice two week spell, the weather has again taken a turn for the worse. It's not only getting cold, it's also been very wet in the past few days.

So I don't quite know what possessed me to get up at 5:30am on Sunday, ride out to the M4 in the dark and the rain to meet Mr Snowden, drive to Gloucester and race a hilly 25 mile time trial. Still in the rain. It was round 11 of the Hardriders series but I've already won that so I didn't even have to ride this one. And looking at the weather forecast for the weekend, I'd more or less talked myself out of it, plus it's the end of the season, I'm feeling slower, pathetic excuse, whinge, blah, etcetera.

I suppose the lure of being able to ride my bike fast was irresistible. Also, when I saw the course in August I really wanted to ride it. It's out and back along smooth roads with a number of undulations. The course record of 55'47 was set by Rob Wood in this event last year, so I suppose that was my target. Unfortunately, the wind was against us on the longer, uphill leg on the way out, which when combined with the constant rain made it too big of an ask for me on the day.

I warmed up by sitting in the Maisemore village hall until about 15 minutes to go, then jumping on the bike just to get the legs going. The lass who started in front of me (it was her first 25 miler) followed this strategy but it didn't quite work out for her as she punctured at the turn and had to get a lift back. She seemed remarkably chipper about it despite having driven over from Oxford to do it. Everyone who does this sport is mad.

Once I got going, the rain didn't bother me so much, because the course isn't that technical, and when you're putting out 330 Watts through the drivetrain, you're also putting out another 1200W of heat, which was just enough to combat the wind and rain chill. The wind was a bit problematic. I needed to get off the bar extensions whenever the road curved around 90 degrees to avoid being blown around by the crosswind. There was also a ploughing competition on a field next to the road, which meant a lot of mud on that section.

I overestimated the severity of the course going out - not always a bad thing - and ended up with too much left in the tank for the shorter, downhill return leg. Thus I clocked 32'30 for the 21.5km out and 24'00 for the 18.8km return. Put those numbers together for a total of 56'30, which wasn't bad for the conditions and easily good enough to win. I have no idea of my power because I was using a different wheel.

Only two others got under the hour: Dean Robson in 58'23, then Dave Kiddell (who has beaten me a couple of times this year) in 58'53. Simon finished 5th in 1:01:28 and Phil Gwynne 19th in 1:09:29 to give us the team prize (yay!). Phil said afterwards he nearly gave up until he realised that he was our third rider and had better put his head down in order to win the princely sum of seven quid.

Some really suffered in the cold though. Severn RC's Paul Chapman was shaking all over when I saw him getting changed in the HQ. He'd done just under 1:10 so was out there a lot longer than I was, and wouldn't have been putting out nearly as much heat. And he didn't have a long sleeved base layer on. Owwww. His teammate Matt Burbridge, who I caught right near the end, was also a shivering wreck in the HQ, and plenty of others had blue lips. Toasted and buttered tea cake helped.

I think I survived a bit better than most because I've put on a kilo in the last few weeks (courtesy of tea cakes, beer and chocolate), plus I was wearing my long sleeved woollen base layer, which is absolutely brilliant in the wet, and I had a nice dry set of clothing when I got back to the hall. That doesn't completely absolve me of nutterdom, but at least I know how to minimise the discomfort.

Three more races, then that's it for the season. Two of those are hill climbs, which I have very little chance of winning, and one is the 3-up, which looks like it will be very close between Chippenham and VC St Raphael. They have the better riders on paper, but we have home course advantage...

Coffee wars

This week, it came to pass that the coffee in our deli (which is better described as a canteen but I'll let that one pass) changed from Starbucks®^TM to Costa^TM®. Much more than that has come to pass this week, but most of it was coffee. Or what passed for coffee (and beer, of course).

Note: the duplication of words and symbols in the above paragraph is purely intentional and is because I'm on an economy drive at the moment. Two things have led me to this sorry state of affairs: credit and crunch. And although I know nothing of the crunch, you have to give me credit for trying.

Back to saving words, etc. (note shortened form of etcetera there. Cunning eh?)

You have a choice when you want to get a coffee in the mornings at work. But it's not much of one. You can either go to the deli/canteen, or you can get a free one from the machine. I've said this in the past, but the free stuff is what I'd imagine Victory Coffee to taste like in 1984. The book, not the year.

Matt Cole seems to live off it. Each morning he goes for a 96, which is called a latte on the machine but, well, you know how it will turn out. Sometimes he can drink it, sometimes not. I think it depends on whether they have refilled the machine with coffee. When I'm desperate I go for a 98, which is a caffe mocha. It's a real mockah. And of late, I've been opting for a 91 - a black espresso. At least this only has instant coffee and water in it, so you can't go too far wrong. I still managed to do so today. What an abomination.

But if I'm feeling affluent - as I often am at 9:29am - I pay £1.20 for a grande Americano (a medium black coffee). The Starbucks nomenclature is weird, because tall is small, grande is medium, and venti is a massive bucket. But it's mostly Italian so it must be coolio, right?

This week, with the introduction of Costa coffee, the deli/canteen barista-in-chief tried to impose a more sensible regime based on Costa's measures. For example, medio was medium, and still Italian too. And if you asked for a grande, you'd be directed to the correct version on a bit of paper on the counter, a bit like Funkyzeit mit Bruno telling the Pastor that he has to say 'ach ja' or 'nicht nicht'. Brilliant eh? Had I been feeling clear-headed on a Monday morning, I might have twigged and said the right thing, but I was somewhat distracted by the next person in the queue and we only barely managed to get the right beverages, let alone their correct portion names.

I've since noticed that the piece of paper on the counter has vanished, thus have continued to order Starbucks grandes instead of Costa medios. They are both mediocre of course, but in their own special way. Starbucks coffee is over-roasted, whereas Costa coffee is merely bland. The Costa cups are much better, though, because they're ridged so you don't need that stupid extra bit of cardboard to stop burning yourself. And the Starbucks cups and lids always had a tendency to leak, which was bad for the trouser dept. Oops, I just spilled some Röyksopp...

So I learned with great satisfaction from my visiting Antipodean colleague that Starbucks pulled out of Australia earlier this year. It just couldn't compete with the Italian and Greek cafes, of which there are literally billions.

Note: I won't sully this blog with training updates. It's been sullied enough.